


The Vampire's Lair

by Daddy_Stark, JishytheFishy



Series: Vampire-Alpha/Human-Omega AU [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alpha Tony Stark, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Anal Sex, Angst, BDSM, Bottom Peter Parker, Dubious Consent, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by Roleplay/Roleplay Adaptation, Journalist Peter Parker, M/M, Non-powered AU, Omega Peter Parker, Photographer Peter Parker, Roleplay, Underage Peter Parker, Vampire Tony Stark, he's 17, human peter parker, so much sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-04-23 15:37:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19153957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daddy_Stark/pseuds/Daddy_Stark, https://archiveofourown.org/users/JishytheFishy/pseuds/JishytheFishy
Summary: Peter Parker, omega journalist for the Daily Bugle, is running out of ideas. He decides to break into a mansion that everybody says is haunted, and just a dangerous place to be, and is kidnapped by a Vampire Alpha.





	The Vampire's Lair

**Author's Note:**

> This is a roleplay we wrote together, where JishyTheFishy plays Peter, and Daddy_Stark is Tony. Replies are separated by dashes. Peter is 17, so not super underage, but if you don't like it, don't read it!

Peter was going to prove to Mr. Jameson that he could get a good story. He was a real journalist! He could do more than write about rare ducks spotted in the park, he could write _real_ stories. Stories people liked, that they wanted to read. Stories that made a difference.   
  
The mansion was the first start to this plan. If he could get in, document some things, and churn out a true story of his findings, he’d be golden. Mr. Jameson wouldn’t have to put his knot into Peter anymore for the kid to keep his job. He needed the money, but he wanted to get it from doing honest work, not from being bent over a desk every few weeks (or whenever Jameson was bored).   
  
Peter pulled up the camera app on his phone as he entered the mansion slowly, wearing a dark hoodie and jeans, hoping to blend in as much as possible. He felt his heart hammering in his chest, anxiety swimming in a deep pool in his lower stomach.   
  
Peter wiped his sweaty hand on his hoodie before steadying it on his phone, beginning a video recording. He raised it to his face, speaking somewhat quietly and sounding a lot more nervous than he’d hoped.   
  
“Um… Peter Parker, tape one. 8:30pm. Just entered the, uh, the mansion. It’s… huge. Looks like nobody’s been in here for years.” He swallowed hard, wandering around with the flash on, navigating the mansion through the small screen.   
  
“Oh, wow!” Peter chimed suddenly, seeing an antique vase. He rushed to it, picking it up with one hand, the other still holding his phone. He turned it in his hand, showing the camera the gorgeous, gold lining around the delicate brush strokes. “This is so old, it’s an antique, looks to be about 16th century —”   
  
_Crash_.   
  
Peter really, really hated himself. He was the clumsiest idiot he knew, and he really hoped he could seamlessly edit out him dropping the fucking vase. “Shit.”

 

\-----

 

Tony had always found comfort in the darkness.   
  
Even as a human, he had sought the solitude of the indoors, squirreling himself away to create and explore the world. Illuminated by candlelight, he had drawn and sketched, watched on by amused parents as he produced countless ideas to give to the world.   
  
That all changed in 1494.

When Lorenzo De Medici had died, Florence had been thrown into chaos. Wars started and ended like crashing waves, battering the country and spilling blood as far as the eye could see, stretching across days, months, _years_ .   
  
It was during this time of bloodshed and death that Tony had been reborn.   
  
He had stepped forward to join the fight, aged a tender 24, amongst many men from his neighborhood. It was an honour, they were told. Truly, how brave and courageous they were, defending everyone's livelihood from those who sought to destroy it.   
  
They never told you about the _blood_.   
  
The _death_.

The excruciating pain, of watching men fall one by one until you're the only one left. The hot slide of metal through your skin and muscle, swords sharp and hands gripped tight as your world shrunk to mere pinpricks.  
  
He'd been found, that day. Having crawled to relative safety, hunkered in a bush, he cowered away from the approaching footsteps, hands bloodied from where they desperately pressed to his stomach.   
  
Was this the enemy? Had they come to finally put him out of his misery?   
  
Instead, his throat had been torn, and liquid fire had been poured through his veins, licking away at his wounds and leaving only perfection behind.   
  
His beloved Sire, sentimental fool that he was, had taught him everything he needed to know. Weaknesses, strengths, enemies, friends. Those to trust, those to hide from.   
  
How to kill.   
  
When Jarvis had died to protect him from hunters in 1501, he went off the radar, once more retreating to his beloved shadows. They suited him even more so, now that he was no longer human.   
  
He had learned, devouring everything he could, spending countless nights and burning candles down to their stumps. When he couldn't learn anymore, he designed, making his own knowledge, seeking revenge for his mentor, his one and only friend.   
  
He had invented the wheel lock, and all of its successors. Had bent fire and metal to his will, despite it being the few things that harmed him.   
  
When those were not enough, he packed his bags and fled his country, his home.   
  
The journey was long, treacherous, tedious. A trail of blood followed him where he went, names and monikers hanging over his head like a shadow.   
  
Thanatos.   
  
The Reaper.   
  
Il Mercante Della Morte.   
  
_The Merchant of Death_ .   
  
When he first stepped foot in America, amongst those who first discovered it, he had discovered a chance at a new life.   
  
Years passed, and the known world grew. Wars waged all over the world, but he never joined, turned a blind eye to it.   
  
He'd never put himself through that Hell again.   
  
It took him far too long to find a place for himself, really. Years of exploring, days and nights melting together until they passed by him in a matter of seconds.   
  
The place had been perfect. Nearby enough for the prey he needed, but solitary enough to keep him safe. Brick by brick, beam by beam, he pieced together his first true home since Jarvis had left him so alone, all those l decades ago.   
  
The vase, he proudly placed in the front room. It had been the one thing Jarvis had stubbornly refused to part with, and so he had kept it himself, cradled it like a babe as he had lived his adventures.   
  
\-   
  
The smash of porcelain startled him.   
  
Eyes snapping up from his journal, it took him a moment to come back to himself. Brows furrowed, head tilted, ears listening. Was that-?   
  
It couldn't be.   
  
No one had ever _dared_ to enter his home, before. No one had been foolish enough to try. And yet, the voice echoed through his home like deaths bell.   
  
Standing smoothly, he brushed off his jacket. Inside, his stomach was tightening, anger twisting inside him like an agitated snake.   
  
It took barely any time at all, for him to pass through hallways and rooms, until he stood at the peak of the grand staircase, staring down at the parlour below.   
  
It was a _boy_ . Barely 18, if his height was any indication. Omega, and unmated, if the collar was any indication.   
  
His eyes landed on the vase. _Jarvis'_ vase. The snarl that rattled his chest was unintentional, but he barely even thought to stop it, lips curling to reveal too-sharp teeth.   
  
"Who the _fuck_ are you?" He grit out, making his way down the steps. His eyes were a vibrant crimson, almost glowing in his anger.   
  
He looked ready to kill.

 

\-----

 

 _Idiot, idiot, idiot._   
  
Not only was it disrespectful to the home, and to whoever was it’s previous owner, but it was disrespectful to _history_ . He couldn’t imagine how much that vase was worth — not just in money, but in sentimental value, whose it was, how they’d gotten it. Did they make it?   
  
Maybe it was stupid to think about it like that. It was just an _old vase_ , the owners were dead, and they weren’t going to roll over in their graves because of a shattered decoration.   
  
Peter hadn’t heard anybody approach, but suddenly there was a voice. An angry voice. An angry, _Alpha_ voice. He looked up quickly, just long enough to catch the red eyes and teeth, before his eyes were on his shoes. His thick, black leather collar suddenly felt too tight, like it was strangling him (as it often did when his anxiety was sparked up). He lifted a shaky hand, sticking two fingers between the material and his neck, trying to pull it away — or remind himself that there _was_ enough space for him to breathe.   
  
Peter felt the bite marks left by Mr. Jameson as he kept his eyes down. “I’m — I’m sorry.” Peter stuttered, stumbling back as he heard the man come closer. He caught the screen of his phone in his view, and shifted to focus it back onto the man, watching through it again. His bright red eyes picked up like two glowing orbs; Peter had only seen that kind of thing in movies. Who the hell was this guy?   
  
“I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to. I’m — shit. I’m sorry.” He stuttered along, “I was just — it was so pretty, I didn’t mean to drop it.”

 

\-----

 

Red eyes swept across the boy, taking in his features. Small, thin, delicate. It made something feral in him rattle at its cage, despite his consuming rage.   
  
Chocolate curls, half covered by the dark hoodie that did nothing to hide him from Tony's gaze. The boys eyes, currently fixated on his shoes, were dark and liquid.   
  
Stuttered words filled the tense air between them, tangling up in the boys teeth and falling awkwardly from his lips. Terror tied his tongue, and the potent scent of fear filled the air between them like smoke. Inhaling deeply, his eyes flashed, mouth widening further to show off more sharp teeth.   
  
"It was pretty, wasn't it?" He crooned, dark and dangerous as he stalked forward, muscles shifting underneath skin and clothes alike. "Until you _broke it_ ." The sickly sweet tone never left his voice, even though it dropped its timbre into a low, baritone snarl.   
  
Reaching out with inhuman speed, fingers dug into the boys cheek and claws drew blood as he easily lifted the other from the ground, eyeing him thoughtfully.   
  
_What to do with the brat?_ _  
_   
It took only a moment for him to decide, despite it stretching on between them until it felt like he'd been standing there for hours.   
  
"That vase was worth more to me than anything else in the world," he murmured, cool breath washing over the others face. "But I suppose you'll do as a replacement."   
  
The sharp intake of breath from the other did nothing to stop him, nor the sudden frenzied squirming as he turned and made his way through the mansion, boy dragged behind him.   
  
Down, down they went, into the depths of his home, the belly of the beast this boy had so foolishly awoken.   
  
So deeply did they descend, that the boy may well never see the light of day again. Something inside him howled with glee, and a dangerous smirk unfurled across his face.   
  
_Perhaps this wouldn't turn out so bad after all?_

 

\-----

 

Peter knew that he was in trouble before the man had even descended the stairs, and, for some reason, he was frozen as he watched the red eyes get closer and closer on his phone screen. The fangs were caught on camera, but that wasn’t enough to make Peter look up.  
  
His big, brown eyes didn’t flick up until the man spoke, until the flash of movement and the sting of broken skin. He could smell the Alpha dominance, which was what mostly kept Peter still, hoping he could catch this all on camera — and get out alive. But really, what could a vase actually be worth to somebody?   
  
Suddenly, Peter was being lifted off the ground like he weighed nothing, and he scrambled to grab the man’s wrist with one hand, attempting to lift himself as much as possible.   
  
_’But I suppose you’ll do as a replacement.’_   
  
Peter gasped, quickly beginning to wriggle around in the man’s grasp. “No, no!” He cried, kicking his legs on the ground as he was dragged across the floor, and down steps, whimpering with each one.   
  
While his movements were mostly shielded, however, his quick thinking clicked in. Peter ended the video, not wanting it to drain any more battery. He powered off his phone and stuck it into his boxers, wanting to keep it safe for when he’d need it.   
  
Peter reached back with both hands, grabbing onto the man’s wrist again, trying to adjust himself so he wasn’t _literally_ dragging across the floor, but it was no use. He was just glad his shoes gave him some protection.

 

He whined the whole way down, and didn’t exactly stop once they finally stopped. Peter ripped away from the man, landing hard on his knees, practically bowing at the Alpha’s feet. “S-sir, please, I’m sorry.” He sniffled. “I can — I can pay you back for the vase,” No, he couldn’t. “I can do something else for you, I — I’m so sorry.” He whimpered, beginning to shake with fear.   
  
The room was dark, and the ground was cold and hard. He hated all of it, especially the candles that were too dim to really light up anything. There were splatters and stains on the walls and floor, and Peter was hoping, wishing, _praying_ that it wasn’t blood.

 

\-----

 

Each footstep echoed around them, a pulsating beat throbbing through their bodies. The boys heartbeat was fluttering like a hummingbird's wings, pounding against his chest as if trying to break free. He shivered, but it wasn't from the cool air slowly surrounding them.

 

No doubt the stone underneath them was scratching the boys skin, the sweet smell of blood slowly permeating the air. His mouth flooded with venom, body already preparing itself to feed. Shaking himself a little, he continued, until they finally reached the thick, wooden door that led to the basement. It creaked as he opened it, and the smell of old blood washed across them like a wave.

 

Grinning, he stepped inside and let the door shut with a resounding thud, and watched as the boy practically threw himself onto the ground in front of him, prostrating himself without a seconds hesitation. His dick twitched in response, but instead he watched impassive as the boy started to beg and plead and sob. It tickled at something inside him, and he stood there silently, waiting until the boys words descended into panicked sobbing.

 

He crouched, the fabric of his pants giving a faint creak, and reached out. In comparison to his earlier actions, he was overwhelmingly gentle, a cool finger tipping the boys face up, so they could look each other in the eyes. Slowly, he moved the boy up off the ground with mere soft guidance, until they were both crouched there, staring each other down. Perhaps he even looked remorseful to the boy, his eyes large, and a small smile stretching his lips.

 

Just as soft as his hands were his words, spoken soothingly despite what he was saying. “You shall stay here until I believe you've paid what you owe,” he licked his lips, already imagining almost endless possibilities. “And if you try to escape, I shall break your legs.” His words were a promise, spoken without hesitation.

 

He moved forward, resting his weight on his knees, until he could speak right into the boys ear, bodies pressed together, one flushed with fear and the other almost as cold as the stone underneath them.

 

“Shall we start your repayment now?”

 

\-----

 

Peter flinched when he was touched, though it didn’t take him long to melt into the soft hand, guiding him to get up and off of his knees slowly. The man was suddenly being kind to him, which made Peter think that his begging had worked.  
  
However, when the man spoke again, he realized that he was terribly, terribly wrong.   
  
What was he going to do? He had to get home, May would be worried sick. _May_ . No, they’d already lost uncle Ben, she wouldn’t be able to lose Peter, too. He had no idea when he was going to be allowed to go home, but he assumed the man wasn’t going to only keep him for a short time. Maybe they would already give up on looking for him by the time he could go home. Maybe he’d never get to go home.   
  
The Alpha was against him, whispering in his ear, and Peter felt like he couldn’t breathe. Like he was being strangled by his collar again.   
  
Peter’s body began to shake with the threat and the suggestive question, making him lose his balance and fall flat on his back. He ached from the stone, but began to shift backwards, quick and frightened. The boy didn’t get far before he had to stop, shuddering at the feeling of his slick creating a wet spot in his boxer briefs. He whined, swallowing hard and looking at the Alpha with wide eyes. He didn’t like this — he didn’t _want_ this, but his body was protecting him either way, preparing itself for the Alpha.   
  
“No, no, I’m sorry — please, I can’t — I wanna go home.” He choked, tears beginning to well up in his eyes.

 

\-----

 

He watched in dull amusement as the boy scrambled back across stone, desperately trying to throw some distance between them. It'd never work, of course, but it was cute to watch.  
  
When the boy came to a stop, the brick of the basement wall preventing him from going any further, Tony grinned. He could already smell it, those first few drops of slick. They called to a different kind of monster within him, one that was quickly becoming unruly inside of him.   
  
He leaned forward on hands and knees, and crawled forward, eyes riveted on his prey. Shoulders rolled with each step, his very aura screaming _predator_ . When he was close enough, he snagged the boy's ankle, and pulled, dragging him back until the boy was almost underneath him, eyes flashing with glee.   
  
"I can already smell you, you know," he purred, words rolling off his tongue like honey. "The slick starting to pool in your pants. How desperate must you be?" He leaned in, until his nose pressed against the warm skin behind the Omega's ear, drawing in his scent.   
  
_Fear. Arousal._   
  
All of it called to him.

 

It was almost laughably easy to rip the boys shirt and hoodie from his body, throwing the tattered remains to the side, utterly useless now. His gaze lowered, sweeping over his new toy. Young, and obviously so, and yet with pleasingly defined muscles.  
  
He'd chosen well.   
  
Moving further down, he ripped the boys pants and shoes off, until there was nothing between them but the boys boxers and his own clothes. The thick, heady scent of slick filled the air between them, and his lips curled back, desperately inhaling the scent and exposing his fangs.   
  
Oh, he wanted this boy. Wanted him _bad_ .   
  
He wanted his blood more.   
  
Strong hands gripped the boys thighs, shaking underneath his hold, and pulled, forcing them apart and baring his inner thighs to his view. The artery there would be his first meal.   
  
Leaning down, cool breath washed over skin, creating goose bumps that spread across the boys body. Nose trailed across thin skin, barely there and yet unmistakable. When he was at his prize, he kissed the spot, laved his tongue over it, preparing the skin.   
  
His body trembled with anticipation, the boys sweet blood calling to him like a siren. His own body was high on arousal, pupils shrunk to mere pinpricks and cock already straining against the confines of his jeans.   
  
After a mere second or two, he parted his lips, and _bit_ .   
  
Blood flooded his mouth, and his grip turned harsh, a low, rattling groan pouring from his throat. He drank greedily, felt its warmth pour down his throat to splash into his belly. He panted, eyes glazed over as he suckled, and had a dull realization ping in the back of his mind.   
  
_He'd never let this boy go free._

 

\-----

 

With a gasp and a quiet shriek, Peter was pulled under the Alpha, surrounded by him, his smell and his obvious _want_ for Peter. The boy shuddered again when he felt the man’s nose against his skin, his warm breath following close behind; but this time, it wasn’t a bad shudder. It was a shudder that preceded more slick flowing from him, one that made his underwear twice as uncomfortable.   
  
Peter whimpered, wishing he had more strength to fight as he surrendered his body to the Alpha.   
  
His clothes were gone in an instant, the top layer first, causing the boy to shift his hands over his chest nervously, suddenly so insecure about his body.   
  
The _strength_ , though. The strength it took for the man to rip off his clothes, the obvious dominance he had over Peter — it made his dick harder than it already was, which he was surprised to find even _possible_ .   
  
But those fangs — they weren’t normal for an Alpha. Come to think of it, neither were the red eyes that had glowed so obviously through Peter’s phone camera.   
  
His stomach tightened as he came to the realization, just as his thigh was bitten into. Peter’s back arched, and he cried out, hands flying to the man’s dark hair, fingers combing through and _pulling_ . The stories about this place — the supernatural ones — they were _true_ . They were all true, this Alpha was a fucking _vampire_ .   
  
Peter didn’t know why that soaked his underwear almost completely, the fabric desperately trying to soak up all of the liquid, or why his dick was poking out at the waistband of his boxer briefs, precome coating his lower stomach.   
  
“M-Mister?” He moaned, his hips involuntarily rocking up. They couldn’t go far, and he knew it would hurt, but he couldn’t help it. Mostly, he hated that he didn’t know this Alpha’s name. “Please don’t hurt me,” He swallowed, voice barely audible, his hands still buried in the man’s hair. “Not too much.” He added.   
  
Peter slipped one hand up, circling his nipple, then pulling on it lightly, moaning out again.

 

\-----

 

The taste of arousal flooded across his tongue at the same time that the scent of slick slammed into him with the force of a train. Hands threaded through his hair and pulled with no effect, and the boy above him actually _moaned_ .   
  
The hips rocking oh so subtly underneath his grip were unmistakable, as was the boys sudden eagerness. Part of that was because of his venom, already trickling through the boys veins, but he knew it couldn't account for all of this behavior.   
  
It was with obvious reluctance that he pulled away, tongue swiping over the bite mark to seal it, his lips coated in dark blood. His eyes were glowing in the darkness of their surroundings, his cheeks now flushed with colour, due to his recent meal.   
  
He moved, heaving himself up so he was now lying on top of the boy, covering the Omega's body with his own, chest to chest and his groin rutting into the soaked boxers underneath.   
  
"Look at you, so desperate to be fucked by a monster. The Alpha at home not enough for you?" He teased, hands curling underneath the boy to grasp at his shoulders, claws leaving trails of abused skin.   
  
Lips pressed to lips, and his tongue forced it's way inside the others mouth, letting the Omega taste his own blood. It was filthy, and deep, a claiming of its very own. This 'Alpha' leaving scent all over the boys neck would soon be forgotten.   
  
He'd make sure of it.   
  
He shuffled, sitting on top of the boy and pinning him to the floor as he leaned up, shrugging off his burgundy jacket, throwing it in the pile with the rest of the clothes. Underneath, a white shirt hugged his muscles, the collar stained red. That came off too, revealing his chest. The vivid scar in the centre of his chest was the only imperfection on his body, everything else smooth skin and lithe muscle.

 

He glanced down at the boy, calculating. He doubted the boy would try to run now - and even if he did, the chase would only increase his fun. So he stood, toeing off his shoes and dropping trou, unashamed of his nudity. When you've lived for 500 years, modesty became a thing of the past.   
  
His cock twitched, the sudden cool of the air washing over his skin. Turning back to the boy, he crouched once more, tongue flicking out to drag across his lips.   
  
"When you scream out in pleasure, you shall call me Tony, or Sir. Why, your escape might even depend on it." A lie, but the boy didn't need to know that.

 

\-----

 

When the Alpha licked him and moved away, Peter’s hand immediately moved from the man’s hair to Peter’s own skin, where he had just been broken open to be… _drunk_ from. A warmth spread across his chest, though, when he felt that the spot had been healed.   
  
Well, at least he was being taken care of in some way.   
  
He wrapped his fingers around the Alpha’s biceps once his weight was Peter, holding him close, the boy’s legs easily sliding around the man’s waist. It took a moment for him to even _think_ of another Alpha, and then to place who the man was talking about.   
  
Oh. Mr. Jameson.   
  
He wasn’t really a threat to this Alpha, not in any way, but Peter didn’t need to reveal that. Not when he was being told everything he’d ever wanted to hear.   
  
He thought of the times Jameson had told him that he was doing Peter a _favour_ , that no other Alpha would want the boy, and that _his_ knot was the only one Peter would ever get.   
  
Well, obviously that asshole was wrong, and Peter couldn’t have been happier about it in that moment.   
  
“Why? You think… you could do better than he does?” Peter teased, working up everything he could to challenge the Alpha, licking his lips. Jameson had never even touched Peter’s dick. Anybody could do better. Or, at least, he hoped.   
  
Peter’s own blood in his mouth was a strange sensation, a coppery taste that he surely would’ve rejected had it come from anybody else. He kissed the Alpha sloppily, with inexperienced technique, trying to breathe in the spaces between their connection.

 

When the Alpha broke away — much to Peter’s dismay — he couldn’t help but to admire the man’s beauty. He wanted to touch every part of this Alpha, to kiss every inch of his skin.   
  
_‘Why, your escape might even depend on it.’_   
  
Oh, right. _Escape_ . Peter wanted to go home. He reminded his omega of that fact, but it didn’t help — his hands were moving to his underwear immediately, pushing them down.   
  
Peter sat up quickly, taking his slightly damp phone out of his underwear before getting them all the way off. It was a reminder of why he’d come there, how he really did want to escape. For a moment, he thought of recording this, but put it down instead, tossing his underwear to the side.   
  
“Tony?” Peter asked innocently, leaning back down, his spine flat against the stone floor. He planted his feet on the ground and spread his legs, reaching under them to pull his ass cheeks apart, exposing his hole, which was completely soaked with slick, and producing even more. “Can I have your knot now, my Alpha?” He purred, “Please?”

 

\-----

 

The boy was eager, writhing underneath him as they kissed, and staring him down as he stripped. He was starting to wonder how old this boy was, how experienced he was, to be so desperate. He had definitely been fucked, for his blood didn't have the sweetness of a virgin. Plus, the multitude of marks on his neck attested to an Alpha trying to stake a claim.

 

That claim was pitiful, really, and he was starting to realise how he could use this to his advantage.

 

His plans switched. No longer would he simply use this boy for his own pleasure, like a lifeless doll.

 

Instead, he'd claim this boy as his own, without even the need of a claiming mark.

 

His attention, which had wavered briefly in his musings, was caught by his name being called. He focused once more on the boy, and felt his stomach twist in arousal.

 

The boys legs were spread lewdly, hole on show for him. It twitched and puckered underneath his gaze, slick leaking steadily.

 

Every intention of being _somewhat_ gentle flew out the window in the span of a single second.

 

One moment, he was crouched, and the next he was on top of the boy. His hands reached down, covering the smaller ones already there. His claws dug in, keeping the boy open and exposed for him as he snarled, something deep and feral from within, fangs bared and eyes flashing.

 

He nipped at the boys parted lips, drawing beads of blood, and rocked his hips, bulbous head catching on the rim of the boy below him. Once he was suitably lined up, he shoved forward, sinking himself deep into wet, throbbing heat. Head thrown back, throat on show - and wasn't _that_ a surprise, considering his very nature - he rumbled, chest almost vibrating with the timbre of it.

 

The need to claim this small boy was near overwhelming, his teeth nearly aching with it.

 

He gave the boy the courtesy of getting used to his bulk, a second or two of stillness, the hint of his knot already there. His entire body was ready to make this small Omega his, and so it was with a grin that he leaned down, covered the boys body with his own, and started to thrust.

 

Powerful muscles rolled and shifted under skin as their hips connected again and again, the slap of their skin echoing around them. He couldn't stop the breathless grunts and growls pushed from his chest, escaping from between parted teeth. Said teeth latched onto the collar, an automatic instinct denied only by the strip of leather protecting the skin of the boys neck.

 

His lower abdomen rubbed against the Omega's smaller cock, every thrust of his hips dragging across, stimulating the other below him. Who knew how this other Alpha treated the boy. It was a toss between a treasured pet and an abused toy, considering the marks, but nevertheless the boy would belong to him now.

 

He'd make sure of it.

 

\-----

 

Peter welcomed Tony’s body onto his with a hug around the man’s shoulders, locking his hands behind Tony’s head. He squeezed gently, his legs doing the same around Tony’s waist. He wrapped around the Alpha like a koala, wanting to be as close as possible to him. Jameson hardly ever fucked him face-to-face. But this was very different. Tony was different.   
  
Peter puckered his lips, a half-desperate attempt at kissing Tony when he was only being bitten. He quickly gave up on his attempts, though, once Tony was pushing into him. Peter cried out and arched his back, his head tipping back as well. He had to be at least twice the size of Peter’s boss — or, at least, he _felt_ like it.   
  
And there’d been absolutely no prep. Peter was ridiculously wet, sure, but the Alpha hadn’t even bothered to _finger_ him and Peter gave up on his internal war over whether or not he was okay with it. All he wanted was more.   
  
“Tony, Tony,” Peter panted, tilting his head to the side, silently begging to be bitten. He didn’t know if there was a difference with _vampire_ Alphas or not, but in that moment, the omega’s only thoughts were about the bite he so desperately _needed_ .   
  
Peter’s eyes kept shut as Tony rocked into him, gentle _‘uh, uh, uh_ ’s,’ coming from the boy with each thrust, completely lost in the feeling of the Alpha pulling and stretching at him.

 

Peter tried his best to rock down onto Tony, clenching around him involuntarily, eyebrows screwing together.   
  
He gasped when Tony bit his collar, praying that the thing would give up, would bend under the Alpha’s will just like Peter had. “Please,” he cried, “Harder, harder,”   
  
Peter’s hips moved wildly then, rocking in time with Tony to meet his thrusts, and then pushing against the Alpha’s body to rub his cock on it. Peter practically tried to fuck Tony’s abdomen, searching for any friction to get himself off. After a moment, he reached down with one hand, squishing it between their bodies, and squeezing and jerking at his own cock. He didn’t know if he was allowed to, or if Tony was planning on actually focusing on Peter’s orgasm, and the movement came habitually, anyways. His other arm stayed over Tony’s shoulder, clawing at the man’s back.   
  
Peter finally opened his eyes, slowly turning his face down to search for Tony’s own red ones. “Can I have it now?” Peter asked innocently, panting. “I really, _really_ need your knot, Tony, _please_ ,” He swallowed.

 

\-----

 

The boy begged oh so sweetly into his ear, honeyed words with a singular goal. It caught his attention, made his head turn, until he was looking down at the boy below him.

 

The Omega's face was flushed with blood, his eyes glazed, mouth parted. The sight made his gut clench, and he leaned down, mashing lips together until tongues tangled and teeth caught, the taste of blood washing between them.

 

He reached around, hand dragging across the boys side, along his belly, until he could bat the others hand away and replace it with his own. Fingers wrapped around smooth steel, and he started to pump in counterpoint with his thrusts, the boy writhing below him.

 

“You're _mine_ ,” he mumbled into the other's mouth, pulling back solely so the boy could breathe, “and I'll _never_ let you forget it.”

 

Their pace increased, bodies writhing together towards the final fall. Higher and higher they climbed, until you couldn't tell where one ended and the other began.

 

His knot was throbbing, growing in size the closer he got to his orgasm. Digging against the rim of the boys hole, sending sparks zipping along his spine, until his eyes were dark with pleasure and his focus started to waver.

 

Raising himself up onto his knees, he used the hand he still had on the Omega's hip to haul him up, very nearly into his lap. The angle only encouraged his knot more, and he ducked his head, lips and tongue once more finding that cursed strip of leather.

 

The cliff was fast approaching, an endless drop that made his stomach tighten and his balls draw up, entire body twisting itself into a knot, ready for that blessed relief.

 

Finally, finally, they leapt. Pleasure crashed into him like a wave, dragging him underneath its tide until he felt like he would _drown_ in it. His chest and throat rattled with a snarl he had no memory of creating, teeth digging into the collar, harsh and urgent.

 

Their bodies locked, his knot expanding until there was no going back, no escape. His muscles shivered, jostling underneath skin, hips jerking unsteadily to milk as much pleasure out of the encounter as possible. His cock twitched, no doubt spurting his seed into the other, marking him as _owned_.

 

The boy would never be able to escape him now.

 

\-----

 

Peter appreciated that Tony took over, providing the omega with twice the pleasure, and a million times more than what Jameson would ever give him. Peter whined and held onto the Alpha tightly with both arms and both legs still, not wanting to let him go.  
  
He could feel Tony’s knot getting bigger each time he thrusted into Peter, pulling at Peter’s hole, stretching him more than he’d ever felt before. “F-fuck,” he moaned, slurring the sound in response to Tony’s own words.   
  
And then they were moving, and with Peter’s hold on Tony’s shoulders and the hand on his hip, the boy went right up with the Alpha. He dropped his neck to the side once more for the man to bite at his collar more comfortably, Peter’s eyes closing once more as he began lightly bouncing on Tony’s lap.  
  
His hands moved quickly to Tony’s thighs behind him, digging his nails in just as he felt Tony’s knot fully expand and lock into him. He gasped in a breath, loving the feeling of them together, _attached_ , Tony giving the boy all he could handle and more. He thought of pups, and of how it wouldn’t be so bad to be locked in this basement forever if he’d get _this_ , and his Omega screamed with glee, internally. He wondered if that when he got out — _if_ he got out — Jameson would be able to smell Tony on him. The thought made a proud feeling wash over the boy, coupling with his overwhelming pleasure, sending his orgasm coursing straight through him.   
  
Peter came all over Tony’s stomach, letting out a pathetic, tiny whimper, one hand moving from Tony’s thigh to his hair, squeezing it in a fist as he finished. “ _Oh, ohh_ ,” he moaned, “C-can you get it off?” Peter whispered, still blissed out on the after effects of his orgasm, feeling tired and close to Tony. “S’it even possible?”

 

\-----

 

He knelt there on cold stone, and took a moment or two to simply _breathe_ . The boys ass was tight around his cock and knot, milking him for all he was worth, and he grunted as he rocked up. It'd prolong the dull pleasure lapping at his insides, semen still steadily pulsing into the other.   
  
He looked down at the smaller Omega, who was limp in his arms, eyes closed and blissful smile stretched across his face.   
  
The possessiveness he had towards this small boy flared, and he settled, getting himself more comfortable for the wait.   
  
The boys quiet words drew his attention, and he rose a brow. It took a moment for his pleasure addled brain to understand what the boy was asking, and his eyes cut across to the black leather. It was slightly tattered, the imprint of his teeth clearly visible.   
  
He contemplated, for a moment, on whether or not to actually take it off. His bite would ultimately mark the boy as his... but that came with a responsibility he wasn't sure he wanted yet.   
  
So, he shook his head, and instead reached around, curiously prodding at where they were connected, checking on the progress of his knot.   
  
He would let the boy go tonight, he decided. Would let him go home, and then sit and wait for the boy to come crawling back. He was almost certain the boy wouldn't be able to stay away, and the prospect of tainting this small, innocent boy make a smirk stretch his lips.   
  
"How are you feeling?" It was the first time he'd spoken since they'd come to their finish, and he made sure to sound concerned. In reality, he was prodding for information, plans already whirling through his mind. He hoped the boy would be damaged, in some way. It'd be perfect for the plan currently coming together in his brain.   
  
He almost couldn't wait, his excitement was so great.

 

\-----

 

It really wasn’t the first time that Peter was disappointed that the leather hadn’t finally given in to trials from an Alpha. It was rare that it happened — but it _did_ happen, and Peter always dreamed he’d be one of those special cases.   
  
After presenting, families were given choices of collars for their omega child. The wealthier the family, the better the collar - sturdier, more unlikely to break should the omega get involved with an Alpha that the family didn’t approve of. But families that couldn’t afford the better collars had less options, and Peter’s aunt and uncle had sat somewhere in the middle.   
  
Ben had promised Peter they’d get him the best collar they could, and he remembered the hushed conversations and the monthly bill for the payment plan they’d signed up for. It wasn’t the best collar there was, but it wasn’t bad either.   
  
Though, truthfully, this one had seen better days, and it wasn’t even that old yet. Sometimes it made Peter feel like a slut.

 

Eventually, though, after every experience, he was reminded how thankful he was that they’d gotten him a good collar. Between being fucked by his boss and locked up in a Vampire-Alpha’s basement, he had gotten himself into pretty fucked up situations, and as the omega-fogged brain cleared out, he was reminded that he’d never, _ever_ want his pups to come from any instances like the two he’d only ever been in.   
  
Peter slowly slipped his arms down to curl at his chest, fists balling up between them, though it was soft and gentle. “Feel kinda sick.” He whispered, and he did. He felt awful. He was scared that he’d never get to go home, that he’d have to stay in this basement until his birth control wore out and he’d start pumping out weird, hybrid, alien babies for the Alpha that was, in that moment, still inside of him.   
  
“And my — my back hurts.” He added, which wasn’t a lie; rubbing up and down on the stone had really taken a toll on his back, the pain never registering until he was asked. He felt like he’d have bruises all over in the morning; if they weren’t already forming.   
  
He sighed heavily, releasing a quiet, frustrated whine with it. “Am I ever gonna get to go home?” He whispered, hoping he wouldn’t get reprimanded for asking.

 

\-----

 

His face morphed into the perfect picture of concern, a soft hand coming up to cradle the boy's jaw, tilting his head upwards. He tilted it this way and that, watching his eyes track his face, the boys pupils dilated in the darkness.  
  
He pulled the smaller one against his chest, cradling him there as he looked over his shoulder, saw the small droplets of blood. He groaned at such a tempting sight, and reached around, oh so gentle as he prodded at the wounds.   
  
He crooned gently at the small whimper of pain from the other, and brought bloody fingers to his lips, licking them clean, unable to help himself. Such a delicious treat.   
  
He looked down at the boy once more, saw his pain, his fear. He knew that scaring the boy wouldn't achieve his goal, so he made sure to be gentle as he leaned in, kissed him softly, sweetly, the faint taste of blood spreading between them.   
  
"Let me help you, my sweet. Such a precious thing." He purred, kiss deepening for a brief moment before he pulled back, and tipped his head back, exposing his throat.   
  
He reached a hand up to his own neck, and, with a deep breath, created a cut, dark, thick blood starting to flow from the wound.   
  
"Here, _il mio piccolo cucciolo_ ," he pulled the other in close, offering, tempting. "My blood heals. Once you're ready, you may go, but only if you drink. You must be strong enough to get home, little one."

 

\-----

 

Peter yelled quietly in pain as his wounds were _poked_ , making him further curl into himself, his fear suddenly wafting back in. He needed help, and all the vampire wanted to do was see him suffer more, it seemed.   
  
But then he looked genuinely concerned, and Peter began to reconsider his thoughts, slowly. He was a vampire, of course he’d be focused on the blood. But at least he could pull himself out of it and take care of Peter right after.   
  
He watched as Tony cut his own neck open, Peter’s brows furrowing in confusion. He didn’t _want_ to drink it, that was gross. He wasn’t a vampire, and even the very sight of blood made him a little dizzy.   
  
He frowned up at Tony, looking into his eyes. If that’s what it took to go home, though, he’d do it.   
  
Peter huffed out a breath and leaned in, nervously pressing his parted lips to the cut, darting his tongue out quickly to just barely touch it. He cringed for only half a second, the cliché taste of pennies in his mouth setting in, before being taken over by something much more sweet. It wasn’t long until he was pressing into Tony, hugging his shoulders, desperately sucking and licking at the wound.   
  
He rolled his hips gently, grinding down onto Tony’s cock the best he could while still focusing on the blood in his mouth, some accidentally dribbling down his chin.   
  
It was so good, his body was screaming for _more, more, more_.

 

\-----

 

Lips fastened to his neck, and the boy started to drink. It was amazing, the sensation intoxicating as he groaned lowly. With the boy hugging him tight, arms around his shoulders, he pulled them even closer, cradling the younger one against his chest.  
  
He could smell it, the boys wounds closing on his back. The scent of blood disappeared until it was nonexistent, and he briefly mourned the loss of such sweet ambrosia, everything within him begging to hurt and create _more_ .   
  
His mind was pulled from its thoughts as Peter shifted atop him, hips rolling and bringing them together, again and again. It made his chest rattle with a growl, and a hand snaked down, pressing at where they were connected, his bulging knot still locking them together.   
  
The boys movements on him only encouraged his body more, and he grunted as his hips shoved upwards, automatically thrusting even deeper, despite knowing his knot would start to shrink soon.   
  
His eyes, blown black with lust, opened from where he'd closed them in bliss, and with a gentle purr he pulled the boy away from his neck, looking down at him.   
  
The boys lips were stained dark with his own blood, and it was with a growl that he leaned in to kiss him, tongue dragging across to clean him up, like a father and his wayward pup.   
  
When his knot had finally shrunk enough for them to part, he lifted the boy off of his cock with a hiss, the cool air a sudden contrast to the warm insides he'd become so fond of. With a grunt he got to his feet, and hauled the boy into his arms, cradling him close as he headed to the door.   
  
"Come, little one. You shall be dressed, and then you may go home. Stay out of trouble for me, yes?" He teased, nuzzling the boys neck delicately, seemingly with care and concern.   
  
He couldn't wait to taint this boy with his own darkness.

 

\-----

 

Peter was pleasantly surprised when his grinding was met with thrusts from Tony, sending him deeper into the boy — if that was even possible. He swallowed all the blood he could possibly manage before being helplessly torn away from the open wound.  
  
Peter whimpered, looking up at Tony with a sad pout, only wanting more of the blood he’d gotten just a taste of. Somewhere in the back of his mind, there was a niggling idea that Tony had turned Peter into a vampire, too, and that was why he was craving blood so badly. But he was sure it was a lengthier process than just getting fucked and drinking some vampire blood. At least, it was in the movies. _Shit, was he gonna be the next Bella Swan?_   
  
The loss of the Alpha’s knot was unwelcome, and only brought a heavier frown onto the boy’s lips. He felt sad, which seemed stupid — he was upset over losing the dick inside of him — but he’d never felt that with Jameson, and sure, Tony had literally threatened to kidnap him and lock him up, then fucked hi m — but somehow, Peter still felt somewhat close to him.   
  
_Damn, maybe the blood did do something._   
  
“You tore up all my clothes,” Peter spoke quietly, pressing into Tony and forgetting that amongst the pile of shredded fabric was his phone.   
  
He nuzzled back into Tony, wrapping his arms around the man’s shoulders for support. The most important thing, though, was that he was going home. “Why’re you… just letting me go?” He didn’t want to ask, he knew he shouldn’t have asked — he didn’t want Tony to suddenly change his mind, but he was too curious to not say something. “W-what about the vase?”   
  
_Dumbass, stop talking._

 

\-----

 

He paused, having made his way up the stairs. There, across from them, was the shattered vase.

 

Throat working, he momentarily forgot about the boy in his arms, and walked over, crouching down in front of its shattered remains.

 

He kept the boy in his arms using a single arm, and reached out with the other, hands plucking a single piece of porcelain from the scattered shards. It glinted ever so slightly in the dull light, and something in his chest sunk.

 

“I'll get it fixed.” He murmured, even if they both knew it would never be the same again.

 

He cursed himself for having shown weakness to the boy, and rose swiftly, piece dropped amongst the pile. Turning away sharply, he turned to instead carry the boy up the grand staircase, eyes flashing dangerously.

 

“I'm letting you go because I am more than my instincts.” It was a solid enough answer, something any Alpha or Omega would understand. While Beta's could pass for ordinary human, As and Os had always struggled against their inner demons.

 

He never had to specify that, as a vampire, he had more instincts, louder instincts, than most.

 

“You shall go home. You shouldn't return. You and I both know I'm not safe for you.”

 

He looked down at the boy, let his eyes drop to the others neck, let his eyes bleed that monstrous, glowing crimson. Oh, how tantalizing he knew it would be, for the boy. A promise, a hint, for what would await should the small Omega return.

 

He entered the master bedroom, smooth wood and arching ceilings that made up his Sanctuary. Placing the boy on the soft bed, he strode to the wardrobe, rifling through it. The boy was small, he wasn't sure if anything would actually fit him-

 

“Ah ha!” He turned, holding up his prize. A pair of old, faded sweatpants, from a past lover - not that Peter had to know that. It had been sitting amongst his own clothes for years, was drenched in his scent.

 

Throwing it teasingly at the boy - and _God_ , such sappy behavior was so far below him it almost _hurt_ to play along - he turned back, searching for a shirt, giving the Omega a little privacy to get changed.

 

Sure, they'd just fucked, but humans could be strangely modest about their nudity.

 

\-----

 

Peter couldn’t help but notice the obviously pained and upset reaction from the vampire, feeling another wave of guilt stab him in the gut. He hated that he’d broken the vase, mostly because it had gotten him into this situation, but also because he’d obviously destroyed something that had sentimental value.   
  
“I’m sorry.” He whispered, even though he knew it meant nothing anymore.   
  
The silver lining, though, was that he had an amazing story for The Daily Bugle.   
  
Peter kept his arms snaked around Tony’s shoulders, keeping a secure hold on him. He pouted when he was told to stay away, staring into Tony’s eyes with his best sad puppy expression. He bit his lip then, once he saw the other’s eyes go red again.   
  
Peter squirmed just a bit, whimpering and pressing his face to Tony’s neck. He needed more of the vampire’s blood — he didn’t know what he was going to do if he didn’t get it again.   
  
His lips pressed to the skin of Tony’s neck, mouth open, giving a gentle kiss, and then a lick.   
  
But obviously he was being cruelly teased, because he was placed on soft bedding and left without Tony’s embrace. He watched as the vampire went through his own closet, tapping the sides of his feet together, smiling at the man.   
  
Finally, a pair of sweatpants were being hurled at Peter, and he caught them with a happy laugh, smiling warmly at Tony. It was surprising that the man could be so sweet considering how he had acted when they first met, but Peter liked the contrast.   
  
“Thanks,” Peter said gently, slipping the sweatpants on, happy that he could be at least half unexposed.

 

Once he got a shirt — and was fully decent — he stood, giving Tony another smile. “Y’know, when I first got here, you were like ‘waah, scary’,” he put up his hands, making claws with them as he spoke, then slowly lowered them as he continued. “But now you’re cool. And… that’s, uh, cool.” He finished his statement and walked into Tony’s arms, giving him a gentle hug around his middle.   
  
“Do you want me to go now?” He asked in a whisper.

 

\-----

 

He watched in amusement, brows raised high on his forehead, as Peter made claws with his hands and tried to _growl_.

 

It was, frankly, adorable.

 

He chuckled as Peter slipped into his arms, and let his words ring true, nuzzling his nose into soft hair.

 

“No, not really. You're the first company I've had in-” He paused, head tilting, trying to think. “A hundred years, or so?”

 

That's when he'd finally drained his last ‘lover’, for they had been getting old and were of no use to him anymore. He glanced down at the boy, knew how he was craving blood already, and hummed, thumb tracing bottom lip.

 

“You are thirsty, still.” It was a question. “That's my fault. Your body is still weak, still healing, from my-” He faltered, let concern mar his brow.

 

“You may have more, before you leave, if you wish. I wouldn't want you collapsing part way home. But after that, you must- you must go.”

 

His throat worked, and he pulled away to close the wardrobe doors, before climbing up onto the bed, and sitting at the top, leaned back against the headboard.

 

“I'm not sure why you came here, Peter. But I'm glad you did.” Soft smile and softer eyes peered up at the boy, a vulnerability to them that didn't exist, loneliness ‘obvious’.

 

He reached out a hand, gestured for Peter to come over and join him, actions soft and gentle, loving, even. He would feed Peter more blood, let the boy go.

 

And then he would wait for him to come crawling back, as they always did.

 

\-----

 

A hundred years. That was a long time… but he was sure that Tony didn’t need Peter to tell him that.   
  
He felt bad for the vampire, though. Sure, maybe it was by choice, but he was all alone and all he got was Peter literally crashing into his home and destroying his most prized possession? That just wasn’t fair.   
  
Peter watched Tony, hanging off his every word, wanting nothing more than to wrap himself up in the man’s arms and cure them both of their sad, loneliness. He didn’t want to go, he couldn’t leave Tony knowing he’d never be able to see him again; that Tony would just stay here, all alone.   
  
As soon as the vampire was on the bed, Peter came bounding to him, hopping onto the bed and laying at Tony’s side, half on top of him. He threw an arm around Tony’s chest, and a leg over one of the man’s, smiling brightly at him.   
  
“I’m glad I did, too. I’m glad I met you.” Peter whispered, leaning in and kissing Tony’s lips softly. After a moment, he bent his neck and nipped lightly at Tony’s own, wishing he could draw the blood himself.   
  
With some help from the vampire, he could finally press his open mouth to a new, opened wound, hungrily sucking and lapping at the blood. He whimpered, rutting against Tony’s hip as if he had the energy to go again.   
  
However, despite his doubts in himself, he got hard again, and desperately searched for any type of friction, wishing his pants weren’t so… there.   
  
“Tony,” He moaned, wondering, for a second, how much blood he could take before it caused discomfort for the vampire.

 

But maybe he’d never get an answer to that question, because it wasn’t long before his mind diverted from the sweet, addicting taste of blood and suddenly asked the question of _‘is aunt May worrying right now?’_ and the obvious answer was _‘yes, stupid. She always worries’_ . Which meant he had to get home. Right away.   
  
“Shit, shit,” It took all of his mental strength, but Peter tore himself away and scrambled off the bed. He fell to the ground, then hopped up and swallowed hard, trying to capture a breath. “I — I seriously gotta go. I’m sorry. I — it was really, really good to meet you. Thanks for — Uh, for the dick.” His mouth ran ahead of his brain, and once Peter had realized what he’d said, his eyes blew to ten times their size.   
  
Before it got worse, Peter turned and rushed out, trying to get home as quickly as possible; all while pushing his boner down desperately.

 

\-----


End file.
